


Why this symbol and not another

by entanglement



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglement/pseuds/entanglement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dream interpretation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why this symbol and not another

     Hannibal is waiting out on the front lawn when Will finally steps out onto the front porch and into the moonlight. The ground is cold under his bare feet and covered with leaves that crunch loud in the late night silence as he ventures further out onto the grass to stand beside Hannibal and gaze up at the moon hanging big and low in the sky. A scream rises from his chest and lodges at the back of his throat at the sight of it, but he presses his lips together to stop it.

  
     He's had dreams just like this. Just a month or two ago, he dreamed he was back at the front of his old classroom at the academy in Quantico, giving a presentation while his students stifled giggles, but maybe that wasn't just like this. That was just his anxiety bubbling over into his conscious and creating a fitting image to announce it's presence. No, this is different. It has a prophetic feeling that sours to uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. 

     Also, he's much more aware that he's naked right now. He's covered in blood and Hannibal is staring.

     The trees sway with the wind and he can feel Hannibal swaying closer and closer too until they're face to face and his eyes close; a silent consent to the contact that's sure to follow. When it ends, Hannibal's face is black with splotches of blood. It dries in the cool air, reflects nothing and it looks like pieces of his face have fallen away like broken shards from a mirror frame. 

     "Just like old times," Hannibal says with a rumbling chuckle. 

     It isn't like old times, because old times never involved kissing or having to later scrub dried blood off his balls, but Will nods. He mirrors Hannibal's smile just like he mirrors everything else Hannibal does without fully realizing he's doing it. More silent consents undoubtedly stored away into Hannibal's mind for treasured safekeeping.

     "I love Autumn," Hannibal remarks as he plucks a bright red leaf from the air before it can finish its drift down to the ground, "would you believe that I actually enjoy change?"

     "I wouldn't."

     They're standing in Hannibal's kitchen together and Hannibal's dressed in white. He's slicing tomatoes and when he slides the knife under the chopped pieces and brings his hand to the blade to scoop them up and transfer them to a mixing bowl, tomato juice drips down his arm and stains the cuff of his shirt pale pink. Will's eyes drop to his own hands to find he's in the middle of slicing an eggplant and placing the slices along a tray with towels underneath. Hannibal glances at Will's work, smiles proudly and continues his thought from before.

     "I can't say I've enjoyed the change you've brought about in me, but I adapt," Hannibal says. He crushes a clove of garlic and pulls it free from its peel, "Sometimes you can't help what you become."  
Will's hand reflexively curls tighter around the handle of the chef's knife in his hand. He imagines jumping the counter to draw the blade across Hannibal's throat or bury it into his chest as he slices another piece from the eggplant and places it in the tray. There's no doubt in his mind that Hannibal wouldn't even begin to fight back, but he reaches out to the open bowl of salt on the counter and sprinkles it over the slices instead of considering the thought any further.

     "You haven't changed me," Will says. Mutters, actually.

     "No, no. Of course not. I sharpened you to a point, Will."

     They're in the first house the Tooth Fairy hit and Hannibal is sitting on the edge of the bed just shy of the mother's corpse and the blood pooled around her. It's just past dawn and the first trickle of light shines in through the drapes and the mirrors over her eyes and mouth reflect it back up to the ceiling. Hannibal gently removes one of the shards of glass to reveal her right eye, wide open and clouded near white like a sculpture. 

     "That's the best kind of change, you know," Hannibal says as he places the shard back onto the woman's face.

     Will looks up from where he was staring at his own reflection in the pieces of mirror. "What is?"

     "Sharpening. Becoming."

  
     Will opens his eyes to find he's still in his clothes with the bedside lamp still on, illuminating the dingy motel room's drop ceiling. His new dog lifts her head to her new master and then lowers it again to her paws to drift back to her own comfortable sleep.


End file.
